


3 AM

by Wolves_of_Innistrad



Series: Jockstrap Collection [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Derek, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Coming In Pants, Frottage, Graduate School, Jock Straps, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolves_of_Innistrad/pseuds/Wolves_of_Innistrad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “The fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 AM

          The first few days of Grad school are good to Stiles, truly they are.  He has his own room for the first time since he moved out of his dad’s house, he actually got enough money to not have to take out a ridiculous amount of loans thanks to his TA position, and, as an added bonus, there’s an incredibly hot guy who lives next door.

          At first he hardly sees him, the wisps of his coat as he walks into his room, boots scuffing down the hall late at night, faints sounds of him moving around in his room.  Thankfully the rooms are soundproof enough that the man likely hasn’t heard him at night when he mumbles about how hot the guy is as he jerks off; that perfect jawline, the scruff that looks so soft, the broad, strong shoulders and muscular arms that Stiles just wants wrapped around himself.  The best part though, as far as Stiles is concerned, is his ass.  He’s only gotten a good look at it once, when they were moving in and the man bent over to pick up a box and Stiles got an eyeful.  Even within his tight jeans Stiles could tell it was one of the best booties he’d ever seen.

          Stiles is in the middle of a particularly steamy dream in which he’s rimming the next door neighbor into submission when he jerks awake, flailing and falling on the floor.  His ears ring with the klaxons going off, making his head almost vibrate with their intensity.  Fumbling for his glasses, his hands scratch the corners of his nightstand before he finally locates them, stumbling as he stands, wrenching open his door only to see a blur fly past him.  When he steps out of the room, hands clasped over his ears, he notices the door to the right of him is open, the hot tenant long gone and he wonders if that was him he saw speeding out of there.  As he watches the rest of the students filing out of the grad dorm he grabs the handle, pulling it just shy of shut so that the guy doesn’t get his shit stolen, but can still get in in case he didn’t take his key.

          Outside on the grass he looks for the hot guy, but can’t find him, feet cold with the damp grass tickling his toes.  As he straightens his glasses he looks over to see hot guy walking around the corner.  His chest is taking in great lungfuls of breath, and at first Stiles thinks it’s just from having run out there, but then he notices other things.  Notices how he’s fully dressed now, but still panting.  How the guy has a large duffel bag around his shoulder.  That wouldn’t be too strange if he’d just been at the gym or something, but from the way his hair is all mussed up Stiles can tell he was asleep.

          It’s not until they’re cleared to go back in, it just having been a drunken student accidentally pulling it as they stumbled, that he notices why those things bothered him so much.  He catches hot guy as he walks towards his room, and he can see this wild-eyed panic clear in his face, watches as his hands tremble and shake as he reaches for the door handle to his room.  When hot guy spots Stiles looking, he masks all that fear and his look turns sour, scowling as he slams his door.

          The next time it happens, Stiles manages not to fall out of bed, but he still nearly trips over the blankets trying to get out. This time it’s even later, 1 am and he has a class at 9 the next morning, to teach no less, but he gets up just in case it’s for real this time.  Once again he nearly gets bowled over by the man next door speeding out of the dorms, and, like before, catches him getting redressed before assembling with the rest of the students.  When he finally does come over to the milling tenants, he is still visibly shaken, fingers fidgeting not unlike Stiles’ own did when he didn’t take his meds back in high school.  When they get up to their floor he waits a moment, and he can just barely hear the audible sigh the man lets out when he closes his door, a heavy weight knocking against it from where he must have leaned back into it.

          After that second time it begins to become a regular occurrence to be awoken in the middle of the night by the alarm, some prankster deciding it was the best way to troll them all.  They still haven’t caught him, but Stiles catches the hot guy next door each time, although he notices as it goes on and on the man gets slower and slower in his racing outside.

          Then one night the alarm blares, Stiles trudges out of bed, hands trying to right his glasses on his face as he pulls his shirt back down a bit and straightens his boxers.  When he walks out his door he stills, waits a moment, not moving into the hallway in case the neighbor darts off, but he doesn’t.  He halts again, noticing the door hasn’t opened, and part of him worries a bit.  He’d always been the first one out, but now today he doesn’t seem to have even woke up.

          Stiles gets halfway down the steps before he says fuck it and goes back up, striding to the door and knocking.  There’s no answer at first, and then the guy pulls open the door, just barely, and blinks at him.  “Hey, uh, fire alarm?” he says casually, pointing above him at the ringing white machine and the guy nods tiredly.  He pulls open the door then, walking out and Stiles gets an eyeful.  The guy is clearly more than half asleep, because unlike all the other times that he’d sped out of the dorms with a bag in tow, tonight when he opens the door and Stiles steps aside, he’s wearing nothing but bright red underwear.  Stiles balks at the way the moonlight shines in just so, acting as the perfect backlight.

          His pecs are just as strong and prominent as Stiles had figured, but covered in a heavy dusting of hair that Stiles wished he could pillow his head against.  His abs look hard as rock and so smooth and soft Stiles has to grab his wrist to keep from reaching out and trying to touch in his own half-awake state.  The guy yawns, fingers carding through his bedhead, which is so abnormal, since, besides these times, Stiles has seen he always keeps his hair perfect.  The big shock though is when he exits the room and steps into the hallway, back turned to Stiles.  Stiles’ eyes trail down his chiseled back, catching for a moment on what looks like a tattoo high on his back before he sees it.  The man isn’t just in his underwear, he’s in a jockstrap.  The perfect globes of his ass stand out in the flashing red lights of the alarms and for a moment Stiles imagines he’s in a red light district and this man is leading him back to do unspeakable things in an alleyway.  The alarms start up again and he jolts from his stupor, following along, eyes never leaving the man’s ass, noting the small hairs there, the way the jock frames it just right, how round and supple the cheeks look.  Stiles briefly imagines how easy it’d be to just slip his fingers inside, press his cheeks apart, and get back to that dream he’d been having a few weeks ago.

          He’s so caught up in staring at the marvelous backside in front of him and then his own fantasies that he only just barely fixes his eyes forward when the man turns around.  Blinking, Stiles notices for the first time that they are outside, and he wonders how he was so entranced by that ass he didn’t even realize he’d gotten this far.  A little more awake now, the usually gruff man gives him a sleepy smile, leans in a bit precariously and whispers “thanks for getting me up,” Stiles flushes a bit, feeling the cool air from his breath on his ear.  Then he feels the man stir next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he stares downwards. Stiles isn’t sure what he’s doing until the guy says “looks like I’m the only one that had trouble getting up,” and laughs.  Stiles’ eyes follow the other man’s and he realizes, with dawning horror, that his cock is tenting his plaid boxers in a comical faction.  Not only that, but there’s a large wet spot at his head.

          Stiles’ brain reels, trying to think of a logical reason for his mega boner in this awkward as fuck situation.  “Um, he, hehe,” he laughs nervously, staring back at the guy who seems to be more alert now.  “Guess… Guess I got morning wood, huh?” he tries, shrugging as if this happens all the time.

          “Oh, too bad,” the man says, smirking now, and it’s unfair how hot and collected he looks even with his mussed up hair and in far less clothes than Stiles.  “I thought it was because your eyes were glued to my ass the whole way down here,” the guy opines, and Stiles feels his blush spread from his cheeks down the entire length of his body, or so it seems.  The guy laughs again; licking his lips and puts a hand out.  “Derek,” he says coolly, and Stiles, despite his nerves, shakes his hand quickly.

          “S-stiles,” he stammers, biting his lip.  He looks down Derek’s body again, a little more confident in doing so now that he’s fairly certain he’s being flirted with, and Derek’s eyes catch his own.

          “So was I right?”

          “So, so right,” Stiles chuckles, smiling, and Derek smiles back.

          “You have really great fingers,” he tells him and Stiles quirks an eyebrow.

          “Huh?”

          “Nothing, just so long and dexterous looking,” Derek says, then leans in, hand going to Stiles’ shoulder again as he whispers into the shell of Stiles’ ear, “I bet they’d feel great inside me.”

          Stiles keens at that and he’s almost certain that if he touched his cock right now he’d cum in an instant.  Before he has a chance to reply though, the Resident Advisor is coming up to the group and telling them it’s safe to go back inside.  When Stiles turns back to Derek, he’s gone.

          When he gets back to his room Derek’s door is closed, and he lies in his own bed then, stifling his moans with his pillow as he streaks his sheets with his release.  It’s painfully fast, so fast he ends up cumming twice before he feels the edge wear off enough that he can get to sleep.

* * *

 

          After that Stiles figures it was a one-time thing, just some casual flirting, because really how could Derek be into him?  Sure, he was attractive in that awkward kind of way, but Derek was in a whole level all to himself, Lydia Martin levels of hotness really.  So Stiles goes about his day, classes, teaching, grading papers.

          It’s not until he gets back from it all that he spots an orange rose taped to his door with a card.  Grabbing it, he holds the rose carefully as he reads the card, a pretty script unfolding inside.

>           _“Hey, I never did say thanks for waking me up.  Or for closing my door that time, since I assume that was you. How about dinner tonight at 7:30? –Derek”_

          Stiles blushes a ridiculous shade of pink as he smiles.  He puts the card and flower away; using an old beer bottle for a vase, then hurries and gets ready.

          At promptly 7:30 he hears a knock on the door and smoothes out his shirt.  He wasn’t sure where Derek wanted to go, so he just put on a nice polo and some dark jeans.  When he opens up Derek is standing there with his same tight jeans from move in day and a white shirt with a grey woolen sweater over it.

          They head out to dinner at a small, cheap diner just off campus in Derek’s Camaro, which he learns he stole from his sister for the year.  She wasn’t too happy about it, but she still lived close enough to home and her husband and she had two cars already.

          The date was nice, Derek was much more than the wet dream stiles had seen him as before, a wonderful personality and a surprisingly big brain hid behind those chiseled features and Stiles was truly smitten.  Derek for his part couldn’t stop smiling the whole night either.  Once they got back to Stiles room though, the smiles turned into hungry looks and before long they were making out on Stiles’ too small bed.

          Grabbing a handful of Derek’s ass, Stiles laughs when he hears the larger man moan into his mouth wantonly, smirking into their kiss. “Like that?”

          “Fuck yeah,” Derek moans, biting Stiles’ bottom lip in retaliation.

          Before long their shirts come off, then Derek gets Stiles pants off, looking up questioningly when he notices that Stiles is wearing bright blue briefs.

          “What, I wanted to wear something nice in case, well,” Stiles motions between them with his hands and Derek laughs.

          “No, I like it,” Derek intones, moving off the bed to divest himself of his own jeans, showing off his impressive bulge in his neon orange Jockstrap.  Derek does a little turn for Stiles, showing off his ass before getting back in bed.

          “You fucking tease,” Stiles chides, smiling as he grips the meaty globes for the first time, fingers gliding over soft skin.

          “Thought you liked my ass?” Derek teases, kissing Stiles’ jaw.

          “Oh I do, very much. Hey…” Stiles gets that sly look in his eye that Derek has already come to learn means trouble. “You still want to see if you were right?”

          “Right about?”

          “About my fingers,” Stiles says, waggling them in front of Derek’s face.  Derek nods furiously and Stiles takes them into his mouth, sucking on each digit and watching Derek almost whimper at the sight.  Once his fingers are spit slick he trails them down Derek’s back, pressing lightly at his entrance and rolling them along his rim.  Derek moans at each touch, burying his face in Stiles’ neck and sucking hickey after hickey into the skin to keep him from making any more embarrassing noises at Stiles’ ministrations.

          Even with how responsive Derek is, Stiles can tell he’s incredibly tight, and even with the eventual addition of lube it still takes nearly fifteen minutes for him to get even one finger into the tight clutch of Derek’s body.  As soon as he does though, Derek begins rocking back and forth on it, rubbing their clothed cocks together and making Stiles bite his lips to stop the string of curses he wants to utter from falling off his tongue.

          “You’re… You’re really big,” Derek pants, one hand cupping the outline of Stiles’ erection in his briefs.

          “You’re no slouch either big guy,” Stiles retorts, feeling Derek’s own large member rubbing against him.  Derek nods, smiling as they continue dry humping.

          After a while Stiles gets another finger into Derek’s tight heat alongside the first and Derek moans even louder.  He can already feel his own orgasm beginning to creep up on him, just from the way Derek is frotting against him.  Once he finds Derek’s prostate the man makes the loudest, most broken sob he’s ever heard, and it’s all he can do to stop the neighbors from hearing when he covers Derek’s mouth with his own and begins tongue fucking it.

          The bigger man begins rutting against him with increased fervor, drawing Stiles to the edge again and again.  The only thing Stiles can do is hold on, two fingers buried deep in Derek’s ass, pressing on his prostate just so.  He feels Derek clench tight around his fingers, opening his eyes to watch those dark eyebrows crease and rise in pleasure.  Derek bucks his hips with wild abandon as he comes, spasming into his jock and pushing Stiles over the edge along with him.

          Once they finally come down from their orgasms, Derek relaxes enough that Stiles can slip his fingers out.  Neither man has the strength to move just yet, lying on top of one another panting.  “I was righ’” Derek finally mumbles into Stiles neck, and stiles snorts a laugh, shaking their chests with it.

          “I haven’t come in my underwear since I was in high school,” Stiles laughs, his clean hand coming to rest on Derek’s neck, caressing the soft hairs at his nape.

          “Don’t worry, I promise next time we’ll get our underwear off before we get off,” Derek says, and Stiles has to chuckle at the pun.

          They lay there, both too exhausted to move, and all Stiles can think, beyond thoughts of Derek and him going at it again and how amazing that just was, is that the fire alarm better not fucking go off again.

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Author's Note:**

> Saw this prompt in a group of them on Tumblr and just knew it screamed Bottom!Derek/Jock Strap!Derek to me. Anyway, if ya'll want to see more of this au comment and tell me, I do have some ideas for a second installment, but since I have a lot fo other things to work on I probably won't right it unless there is interest.
> 
> As always, thanks to all my Wonderful Readers for the comments, kuods and subs!


End file.
